My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts
There was a very good reason why the squirrel wasn't up at the Training Grounds already, since he often found himself dragged up there at the merciless hand of Ser Iros for another day of monotonous combat training with an Akalak able to put a turtle to shame. Everything hurt. It wasn't just like a deep-muscle burn that the humans often talked about, or the ache that could set deep in a persons bones. This was all of them combined. His entire body was just one big lump of clay, and as such, the pain spread equally over every inch. It must have been something to do with the training he'd done in the last day, though he'd never done anything in his life that had such a profound effect the next day. Even the most rigorous acrobatic exercises would only leave his clay tired and softer, not burn as brightly as they did that morning.
It's like the Balicani attack all over.He couldn't lie about in bed all day though, feeling sorry for himself. That was never the way to resolve these things. He flexed what little he could, baring the sting that faded into a dull throb, until it became more bearable. The more he worked, the more awake he became, the easier it became until he could finally sit upright and rub at some of the sorer points of his body.
"Shyke... I hope this doesn't happen every time." At least, for the moment, it was somewhat manageable. He shouldn't be going off and fighting like this, he knew, but when an emergency came, he wouldn't have a choice. Whether he was sick to the teeth or worse, Rhysol wouldn't wait and neither would the squirrel. A bell later he was out the front door, on his way to the Training Grounds. A little worse for wear, but it was hardly visible on the squirrel. Perhaps his clay looked a little more pale than usual, but who was going to suspect?
A short walk, filled with quite a bit of shouting and little-to-no moving out of the way for passers-by, finally brought him to the same place he'd trained for the previous day. Possibly one of his favorite areas of the Grounds, barring the smaller grove of trees where he could relax in. Though he'd long since pushed as far as he could, just basic exercises with the equipment was a relaxing experience comparable to meditation. It calmed his mind, stretched his body.. limbered him up for the day and woke him up. Nivel already seemed to be preparing herself and the squirrel wouldn't intrude on her - it was just rude and disrespectful. Garland apparently thought the same, which surprised the squirrel enough to stop him in his tracks.
Since when did Garland actually have some restraint? The last time they'd met, he'd shown none of it.
"Morning. You waiting for something?" Had the boys patron finally kicked some sense into him? Or did he just have more respect for the wing-eared mage-Pycon than he did for Arch. He couldn't really decide whether to be happy or whether to be annoyed. For now, he just settled on a strange curiosity, lingering about the entrance with an occasional unseen glance passing back to Nivel and the obstacle course beckoning him eagerly.